Memories Not my Own
by zeldazonk
Summary: A young girl much like myself finds a white gown in a thrift store...when she wears it, she is not herself. Complete and almost confusing.
1. Chapter One

The thrift store smelled like old incense and heavy 1920's perfume. It filled my nose and I inhaled, liking the strange scent.   
The old woman at the counter croaked, "Can I help you, sweetheart?"  
"Oh, no thanks." I gave her a smile and continued searching the racks of clothing.  
  
About half an hour later, I'd found a short red dress, two sarongs, an interesting sequined purse, and a funky pair of jeans with a huge Marilyn Monroe on one leg. (All within my budget of fifty dollars, thankyouverymuch.) I was about to take my clothing up to the counter and pay when something caught my eye. It was hidden behind a hideous puce colored suit and it was very faded, but something...something about this dress was special. "How much is that?" I asked the woman, pointing towards the white dress.   
"Oh, I'd give it to your for thirty." She muttered, smushing her cigarette into the Elvis ashtray. "Want it?"  
Impulsively, I blurted, "I'll take it."  
"No one's ever even touched this thing." She said as she removed it from the hanger and placed it in my bag. "But there's something about it...when you try it on, you'll see." Cryptically she smiled and watched with those watery green eyes as I left her shop, eager to try on the white gown.  
  
It looked strangely familiar as I laid it down on my bed and stared at it for a few moments. Tenderly, I let my fingertips graze the old satin and took in the design. The gown was white, strapless, with a thin, molten gold edging on the bodice. It smelled like must, yet within the fragile folds, I could smell a musky vanilla rose scent. I wondered who had worn this dress, what it had meant to that person, and what it's history was. Letting my curiosity take over me, I slipped it on.  
  
Suddenly, I was filled with an ominous sensation. All I could hear, all I could feel, was a voice.   
"She is mine."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED...* Twilight Zone music * 


	2. Chapter Two

I could feel the chills rushing up and down my body. "She is mine," the ominous voice said again, low and threatening. Closing my eyes to ward off the increasing panic I was feeling, I suddenly saw images foreign to me. I felt arms about me and heated tears falling on my body. I heard someone calling, "Satine! Satine!" over and over again, then more sobbing.   
  
My mind in a flurry of confusion and memories that I had not witnessed, I instinctively tore off the dress and stared at it in a crumple on my bed, breathing heavily. What was going on? What powers did this dress have? I closed my eyes again to slow my breathing and concentrated on what the old woman had said to me. "It's a strange dress; when you wear it, you'll see."   
  
Later that evening, I decided to try on the bewitched garment again. When I reached out to touch it, my heart started thudding uncontrollably. Swallowing hard to maintain my composure, I slipped the gown on. It fit perfectly; strange, because in the thrift shop, it had been much too long. What was happening to me?   
  
Nearly an hour passed, totally unaffected by the powers of the dress. But then, suddenly, it was nearly impossible to breathe. I gasped in vain for air and collapsed on my bed in a dead faint.  
  
When I came to, nothing was the same. I wasn't me and I wasn't in my bedroom. I was wearing the dress, yet something had happened. I stood, legs shaking, and looked about. I shivered uncontrollably in the cold of the room. It was dark and sparsely furnished, yet the few furnishings depicted great wealth. The chairs were dark mahogany, edged in what looked to be real gold. Paintings showing suffering covered the walls. Silver cutlery and costly china decorated the long dark table. I fingered the red velvet of a chair when I heard a voice behind me. "There you are."   
My voice as shaky as my body, I replied, "Who are you?" Unable to turn around, I only listened for the voice behind me.  
"Turn around, darling."  
I did so and my breath caught in my throat. There, in all his glory, stood the Duke of Monroth.  
I was Satine, and I was trapped.  
The world closed around me and everything went black as I fell to the floor. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3  
  
  
I could feel my head hit the cold marble floor but then all went black. I was spinning into a dark black abyss of strange emotions and I was freezing. I didn't know what was happening to me and where I was.   
  
Then I woke up, my head pounding and my body shaking. I was on the floor next to my bed. My heart drowned out all other noise as I ripped off the dress. In fear and confusion, I simply stared at it. It was beautiful; I loved it. Maybe I had been dreaming. I decided to wear it to school the next day.  
What a mistake that was.  
  
All was normal until about third hour. Sitting in science class, twirling a lock of hair around my finger, completely bored, I didn't feel anything strange. My friend passed me a note and in an attempt to reply, I noticed that my handwriting had changed drastically. The note read, "You look different today. New hair color?"  
No dye had touched my hair.   
In the strange cursive that was not my handwriting, I wrote back, "No. There's something weird going on with my dress."  
When she read it, she looked at me as though I was crazy. "I'm serious," I whispered. Then my head started to ache and I passed out, right on the chilly black lab table.  
  
When I awoke, there were people with faces unrecognizable looking at me. "What the hell?" I swore, sitting up and rubbing my head.   
"Mademoiselle Satine, you're not dead!"  
"What?" I gasped.  
"You're not dead! Oh joy!"  
"I'm...I'm not Satine." I stammered.  
"Of course you are."   
"No, I'm not."  
"You must have fainted and hurt your head."  
"I'm not Satine!" I screamed. They stepped back. I stood and looked them all in the eye. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"  
"Excuse me, Satine?" The youngish one looked almost as puzzled as I was.  
"I am not Satine! I am just a girl wearing a dress who is very confused as to why she is here! I don't know who Satine is!"  
"You are Satine. Dear girl, you must have hit your head. You're just confused."  
"No!" I screeched, very frustrated.   
"Here." The youngish man started to sing. "Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, suddenly moves with such a perfect grace."  
"What? Why are you singing to me?"  
"She's not Satine." He decided.   
"But who is she? She looks like Satine, she talks like Satine..."  
"I'm not Satine. I swear to God, I am not Satine. I don't know why I'm here and how I got here." I started to cough. All three of the men staring strangely at me looked quite concerned.   
Blood gushed from my insides and spilled onto the white of the dress. When I'd finished, my throat was raw and it hurt worse than any sore throat I'd ever had. And then I fainted once again.   
  
Into the dark black abyss my body flew, torn and aching and screaming in pain. Tears raced down my face, sending puddles of eyeliner cascading like waterfalls. I could hear the moaning of people from the past, people long dead. Chills broke out all over my body. I screamed in agony.   
  
And then I was back in my time. I was going to take the dress back now. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew it was the dress's fault. So, with the demon garment in hand, I set back out to the vintage store I'd bought it from.  
It was no more. There was no more "Sheila's Steals." It was as if the store had never been there.   
My heart jumped into my throat. I ran to the convenience store next door and asked the person behind the counter. "What happened to Sheila's Steals?" I questioned, frantic.  
"What are you talking about? Are you sure you have the right address?"  
"YES! It was here two days ago! Where did it go?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm sorry. There's never been a place called Sheila's Steals."  
"Give me a phonebook."  
"Why?"  
"Give me a damn phone book!" I gasped. He handed it over and I flipped frantically through the pages. I went to the S's. No Sheila's Steals. It had never existed.   
So where had the dress come from?  
What was going on?  
Was this just a crazy dream?  
I fell backwards again in a faint, struggling for breath.   
And I did not wake up.  
  
Author's Note: If you don't get the ending, I don't blame you. It really is not that hard to figure out, however. This story has been GHASTLY to write.   
It's done now.  
Please, please, don't copy.  
*hops off her soapbox to watch Sex & the City* 


End file.
